Italian Black Widow
by BellaPur
Summary: The life of Ms.Carolina Zabini. The Italian Black widow.From her happy Italian-English childhood to her own beloved son and less beloved husbands. A cold blooded killer or a victim of circumstances? Mother or murderess? Or perhaps both...
1. Prologue

**Italian Black Widow**

**Prologue **

**Carolina **

I am a killer.

People mutter about me behind my back. "Murderess they whisper from behind their hands. Never _fully_ audibly though. No, no I have a veneer of respectability. And people from the patrons of Manor houses to the scum of Diagon Alley, respect respectability.

My husbands died in _suspicious_ circumstances, but no charges were ever brought to my door. Only whispers.

"_She flirted with the Aurors."_

"_She seduced the Judge." _

"_She bribed the Wizengamot."_

Or maybe_ she_ is smart enough not to get caught.

My aura of mystery excites the common crowd. Their whispers feed my career. Each murmured slur against me heightens their interest in me. The Italian Black Widow, who entices her prey, then… disposes of it. Some condemn me. Some defend me. All love me.

Did I kill?

You will undoubtedly make up your own mind. Only I have all the facts. And who says I will share them with you? But I will impart this knowledge to you.

I am a killer.

I am not a murderess.


	2. Birth of Beauty

**So, that's the prologue done. Now Ms Zabini just needs to be born =D **

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**Birth of Beauty **

**Balbina Zabini **

The Medi-witch had placed the little pink bundle in my arms. A tiny coffee coloured creature, with wispy dark, a button nose, and the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen on a child. Such a pretty girl. Even then.

So content in my arms. Unaware of the strain of the last nine months. The grief, the tears, the arguments.

We were far too old for another baby. _I_ was far too old to be a mother again. I was used to the daughters I had. Isabella, almost 15 and almost grown up, so she said. Amata-Maria, my sensible one, always her nose in a book, far older than her 13 years. And little Verdette, my pampered baby, about to start her first year at Hogwarts, her first year away from Mama.

So much to buy. Robes, school books, cauldrons, a wand… The list was everlasting. How were we to pay for a new baby on top of that? We barely made ends meet as it was. How could I get pregnant at a time like this? It was a disaster! It was a travesty of justice! It was a-

"Cause for celebration," Aldo firmly told me. "We are being blessed. We couldn't afford any of our children, but we had them, and we are having another and that is that."

The little girl in my arms didn't care that she was a mistake. She didn't care that she was a burden. She didn't care that her poor Mama had had to battle through endless hours of the worst pregnancy I had ever had, to bring her into this world. Cocooned in the warmth of my arms she rested, oblivious to the havoc she had created.

Soon her father and sisters would arrive to coo over her. Then Grandparents, Aunts Uncles, distant relatives from all over England and Italy.

Exhausted I cradled her close and shared a precious few seconds with my youngest daughter.

"You're worth it, Pretty-Girl," I murmured. "I love you Carolina Zabini."

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**I realise it's a bit short, but chapters will get longer. And shorter. Actually they'll be all over the place length wise =S But I promise the next one's longer. **

**Reviews make BellaPur happy =D **


	3. Pretty Girl

**And since I'm all chuffed as can be with my GCSE results, and therefore in a happy mood conducive to writing, I wrote another litle chapter for yousuns.**

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**Pretty Girl **

_Ratto – rat _

_Cara mia – my darling _

_Capisce – Do you understand?_

Carolina was a pretty girl. Every one told her so. Papa told her so, her sisters told her so, friends of the family told her so. But most importantly, Mama told her so. And Mama was always right "_So don't you question me you little ratto_!"

x-CZ-x

"Mama, Mama! Look what I made!"

Balbina's eyes flickered to the daisy chain in her daughter's hand and straight back to the pot she was stirring.

"Beautiful, Pretty-Girl."

Satisfied with this brief response Carolina skipped back to the garden. Better not to interrupt Mama too often when she was cooking. Papa often had to dodge flying ladles. Carolina, had never had to dodge anything other than angry words (that she was _not_ to repeat) and she very much wished to keep it that way.

No, better to retire to the sunshine and the daisies. Besides, Carolina thought happily, Papa would be much more expressive when he admired her chain.

With the sun caressing her face and the grass tickling her toes, Carolina smiled. Even if Mama was, for the moment, silent, it was guaranteed that someone in the Zabini household would be fighting.

Verdette's angry voice floated down from an upstairs window.

"I don't know where your earings are Isabella but I don't have them!"

"Don't you lie to me little-miss-sneak-thief! Four times I've removed them from your jewellery box, and you're telling me they're not there right now? Well then, you won't mind if I check!"

The angrier, and louder, they got, the more Carolina could detect a hint of Italian in their accents.

"They're not there Isabella!"

"Get away from the door!"

"I shan't!"

"Move Verdette!"

There was the sound of a brief struggle.

"Get out of my room!"

"Aha! They _are_ here!"

There was the sound of a less brief struggle.

Under the apple tree in the corner Amata-Maria rolled her eyes at Carolina and went back to her book.

Carolina picked more daisies for a bracelet to match her necklace. She didn't mind when Verdette "borrowed" things off her, but it drove Isabella mad.

"_I work hard for my things,_" she would hiss. "_You have no right to take them_."

"_Work?_" Verdette would scoff. "_Gifts from pervy old wizards who like watching young girls like you on the stage."_

And that would start another argument.

Carolina liked watching Isabella on the stage. She was the best actress ever. Even Mama said so. "_Well worth the money we paid to send you to MADA, cara mia._"

Carolina didn't know what "pervy" meant, but she liked the pretty gifts Isabella recieved. Flowers, jewellry, sweets. And once someone had even given Isabella a silver ceremonial daggar. And Isabella had given it to her.

"What are you thinking!" Mama had screached. "Giving a knife to little Carolina!"

"She wanted it Mama. She beg-"

She is four years old!"

Carolina had hugged her dagger to her chest and turned wide beseaching eyes to her father. Papa had made the compromise. Carolina could keep her knife, but it must stay with him until she was old enough. Carolina beamed. Mama huffed for three days.

So absorbed was she in her bracelet, that she didn't hear Mama calling for them, until Amata-Maria pulled her up by the arm.

"Time to eat, Pretty-Girl."

Gathering her daisy chain in one hand she followed Amata-Maria to the table. Isabella and Verdette were sitting as far apart as possible, glaring at each other occasionally.

Mama smiled as she ladled soup into Carolina's bowl.

"That's very pretty, cara mia," she said pointing at the bracelet. "Pretty like you."

"Not quite," Papa quipped as he sat. "Nothing's quite as pretty as our Carolina."

Carolina let out a giggle as she grabbed her spoon. Papa pulled faces at her from accross the table, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue until Mama smacked him upside the head and snapped "Aldo!" playfully.

Carolina noticed Isabella toying with her bread as they all tucked in. She looked like she was stealing herself to say something, but just as she went to open her mouth, she would shut it again, and go back to tearing her bread into tiny pieces. Finally she put it down and looked straight at Mama.

"I have an announcement to make.

"Si, cara mia? Mama said distractedly, raising the spoon to her mouth.

"Mama, look at me."

At Isabella's comand Mama's eyes snapped up.

"I've been asked... there's a theatre group... they're going on tour... they want me to go with them... I-"

"A theatre group!" Mama exclaimed. "But this is wonderful Isabella! Just what you wanted too! Oh Izzy! My little Izzy a proper actress!"

"In Italy," Isabella blurted. "Six months in Italy."

Mama's smile didn't falter a mite. Papa was less overjpyed.

"Italy?"

"I know it's far from home-"

"Nonsense!" Mama interjected. "We're Italian aren't we?"

"We live in England Balbina."

"So? We speak Italian,our girls have four Italian Grandparents, I was raised in Pisa-"

"And I was raised in Kent. An so were our girls."

"Tch! Then it will be good for them to experience their Italian culture! Cara mia," she turned to Isabella. "You will not waste this opportunity! Ignore your father, you are going to be a star!"

With a shriek of joy Isabella threw her arms around Mama.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Papa frowned.

Carolina narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"Is Isabella leaving?"

"Yes Pretty-Girl," Isabela replied. "But I'll come home for Christmas. Promise."

"Oh." Carolina was appeased. "So it'll be like when you were at school?"

"Mmm... Yes."

"And will you be a famous actress and make lots of money?"

Isabella laughed. "Of course! I'm going to be a star!"

"Mama and I have an anouncement too."

"Aldo!" Mama snapped again. But this time there was nothing playful about her tone.

"They deserve to know Balbina," Papa said softly.

"Not now!" Mama yelled. "Not when Isabella has had such wonderful news!"

"Our news is wonderful too."

Papa raised his eyes to Mama's. Whatever she saw there made her falter. With a loud sigh she sat down in aquiesence and placed a hand on her stomach.

Papa turned to face his daughters with a large but gentle smile on his face.

"Mama is going to have another baby."

The floodgates opened.

"Are you mad Mama!"

"We can't afford it!"

"You're too old!"

"Don't talk to your Mother like that!"

"Carolina was bad enough!"

"You can't have another baby!"

"Are you stupid!"

"ENOUGH!"

A sound like a firecracker from Mama's wand made the rest of the Zabini family lower themselves back onto their seats.

Mama pulled a crying Carolina into her lap. Gone was the strange quiet accepting Mama of a few minutes ago. The fierce fiery Mama they all knew was back and was glaring at them.

"Yes I am too old. Again." she hissed. "Yes we can't afford it. Again. Yes it was unplanned. Again. And yes I am damn well having this baby!"

Mama bared her teeth.

"Papa was right! This is wonderful news, and you will love this baby. We will manage as we always do and Verdette!"

Verdette received an extra scary glare.

"If you ever talk about Carolina like that again, you will not enjoy what I do to you, capisce?"

"Yes Mama."

"Good. This is wonderful news. Now shut up and eat!"

x-CZ-x

Later that night, when Verdette had finally come up to bed, Carolina asked the question that had been on her mind all evening.

"Verdette? Are you awake?"

"Yes Pretty-Girl."

"Verdette? Did you- Did you not want me?"

"What?"

"When I was born. You don't want the new baby. Did you not want me?"

Carolina tried to keep the tremor out of her voice but didn't succeed.

Verdette paused for a fraction of a second then clambered into Carolina's bed.

"Of course we wanted you Pretty-Girl!"

It was a fraction of a second too long.

"You're lying."

Carolina always knew when someone was lying to her.

"No Carolina, we-"

"You didn't want me!"

Verdette sighed and hugged Carolina closer. Desperate for comfort she buried her head in Verdette's shoulder and cried.

"We love you very much little sister. You were just... a shock, that's all."

"Is the new baby a shock?" Carolina sniffed.

"Yeah. A big one."

Carolina contemplated this for a few seconds.

"So... will you love it too?"

"The baby?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Good." Carolina wriggled further into Verdette's embrace. "Then I will too."

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**Everytime you review, I let another kitten out of this imaginary bag alive.**


	4. Beniamino

**Beniamino **

Carolina was _not_ happy.

She had had everything planned. Her new little sister would be called Talia, after a great great Aunt of Mama's,and she and Talia would play dolls and have tea-parties and make Daisy chains and dress up and sneak into Papa's study and look at Carolina's dagger and, and... And Carolina was going to be the best big sister ever!

But of course, now everything was ruined.

"Girls, this is your new baby brother. Beniamino."

It wasn't _fair_. Papa had often joked about wanting a son to be the man of the house so he could have a rest. But it was always a _joke._ And anyways, Mama had girls. Mama always had girls. Mama only had girls. So, why was she having a boy now? Carolina wanted her baby sister!

"But you _said_ you'd call it Talia! You promised!"

"I know Pretty-Girl. But Talia's a girls name, and Benji is a boy," Mama replied, feeding Beniamino his bottle.

"But you _said_ he'd be a girl!" she accused.

"I thought he would be cara mia. But he's a boy."

"But you _said_!"

"_Carolina_!"

Mama had reached the end of her short tether. Carolina pouted and left still mumbling "you _said,_" under her breath.

Benji _was_ a boy. Benji was annoying. Benji was smelly. Benji was loud.

"You kept me up last night," Carolina informed him angrily. He blinked at her. She narrowed her eyes. Her sisters would tell her to shut up. Her sisters would fight back. Her sisters would not fall asleep and ignore her like that! But Benji was her _brother._ Carolina was _not _happy.

Mama was too busy with the bambino to notice.

Papa called her over for a talk.

"What's wrong Pretty-Girl?"

Carolina squirmed in his lap.

"Is there a problem with the new baby?"

Carolina shrugged.

"Don't you like him?"

Carolina shook her head.

"Why?"

Carolina thought long and hard.

"Because he's a boy," she stated simply, after some time.

Papa stroked his chin.

"Oh? Don't you like boys?"

Carolina shook her head again. Violently this time.

Papa raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a boy. Don't you like me?"

"Of course I like you Papa!" she exclaimed, horrified.

"Even though I'm a boy?"

Carolina examined her feet.

"Beniamino can't help being a boy Pretty-Girl. It's not his fault."

Carolina bit her lip. "I wanted a little sister," she muttered. "Isabella and Amata-Maria and Verdette all have a little sister. Why can't I have one?"

"Because Pretty-Girl, then you wouldn't have a little brother. And," Papa tapped her nose "then you wouldn't be my baby girl would you?"

x-CZ-x

Carolina soon discovered Benji wasn't as bad as she had thought. He was, she noticed, alot cuter than the other babies she saw in prams when Mama took them out. And he was smarter too. There was something in his eyes that made Carolina sure he was the most intelligent baby she'd ever seen. In no time, he was sitting up by himself and then he was feeding himself and then he was walking and then he was talking and then he was following her round everywhere and introducing her as "My littlest big sister Carolina."

_Yes_, Carolina thought, _She quite liked Benji._


	5. Andromeda Black

**Readers of Black Roses may recognise some parts of this chapter =D **

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**Andromeda Black **

**Carolina Zabini**

I was pulled into a bone-crushing hug for the tenth time that morning.

"Mama," I protested futily. Again.

"Oh, my Pretty-Girl! My little Carolina! Off to Hogwarts at last! Oh, I could cry!"

Mama blew her nose loudly making Benji giggle. No sooner had I gotten rid of Mama's arms, than Papa pulled me into another embrace.

"I'll miss you Pretty-Girl," he whispered.

"Me too," I whispered back.

"You'll miss yourself?"

I joined Benji giggling.

His face suddenly turned serious and he knelt to look me in the eye. When he spoke he had changed from English to Italian. Unlike Mama, he had a purely English accent at all times, except when he slipped back into his mother tongue. As Verdette once said "When Papa sounds Italian you better start to listen."

"Carolina. No matter what anyone says, no matter what the other children do, I want you to remember that you are _just _as good as them."

He paused to make sure I was listening. I was.

"You are every bit as pure as your classmates. In fact your blood is probably purer than most. It's shameful the scum that has been let into Hogwarts."

He broke off and glared into the distance for a few seconds. Then he returned his hand to my shoulder.

"You are a pureblood, Carolina. Being-, being not well off, that means nothing. Do you understand?"

I nodded solemnly.

"And you won't let anyone tell you different, yes?"

I nodded again, grinning.

"Poor but pure, right Papa."

"That's my girl! Give me a kiss."

I pecked his cheek and was, once again, pulled into an embrace.

Finally the whistle blew and Mama gave me a shove in the direction of the train.

Standing on my trunk, I hung my head out a window and waved 'til my arm was sore. Benji strained against Mama's hand, waving frantically. And then-

And then they were gone.

And I was alone. For the first time in my life I was completely on my own. No family. No friends. Not a single person I knew.

I was scared. Snakes slithered in my belly. But not just from fear. No, only a tiny bit from fear. Mostly they slithered with excitement. I was on my first big journey. This was the first step to me becoming _great_. I couldn't wait!

Grabbing my heavy trunk, I surveyed the empty train corridor. All the other students had disappeared into their compartments, which would mean I would not get one alone. Slowly I trudged down the carriage dragging my trunk, with considerable difficulty.

I had not gone far when a curly haired girl, a few years older than me flung open the door of her compartment and strode, almost skipped, down the corridor, head held high, and entered another compartment. In the few seconds I watched her, I became instantly aware that this was a girl who would do what she liked, and hang anybody in her way! I was sure if I hadn't pressed myself against the wall she would have barrelled straight over me. Her entire appearance screamed confidence.

I decided, then and there, that from now on _I_ would exude that kind of confidence. Though perhaps skipping was not quite me. It was a bit childish. And I was _eleven _after all.

Squaring my shoulders, and holding my own head high, I stepped through the door the girl had come from.

There was another girl there, identical to the first, but clearly younger. My age. A younger sister perhaps. She stared at me as I crossed to the luggage rack.

"Do you want any help?"

I studied her for a second. She had her wand in her hand . It looked comfortable in her fingers. And the older girl... no mudblood could be that confidant surrounded by wizards, even if they had been at Hogwarts before. It was obvious they came from a wizarding family.

I moved aside to let her grab a handle, but she didn't move from her seat.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

My eyes widened as I watched my trunk float lightly above my head. It landed without so much as a creak beside her's and her sister's.

"You can do magic already?" I breathed more than a little impressed. And more than a little jealous.

"Yeah," she smirked haughtily, twirling her wand between her fingers again. "Daddy wouldn't teach me that one, said I was too young, but Bella, that's my sister, she reckoned I would need it and taught me when Daddy wasn't looking."

Bella? That must be the older girl. So we had that in common. An older sister called Bella. I sat down slowly opposite her. She remained standing, looking a picture of cool. She was intriguing. Instinctively I knew she and I would be great friends.

Finally I allowed a giant smile to flash across my face and thrust my hand at her.

"Carolina Zabini."

"Andromeda Black."

She sat down still shaking my hand. I giggled and tried to pull it back. Laughing she refused to let go. Then she tried to get her hand off me and_ I _refused to let go. We almost pulled eachother off our seats in a human version of tug-of-war. It was silly, childish and ended up with us giggling like crazies, for no reason. I'd never had anyone I could act like _this_ with. I liked it!

As our snorts subsided, someone else barged into the compartment.

"Evan!" Andromeda shrieked, flinging herself at the new boy. He was much older than us. A Fifth year at least.

I watched as he mucked around pretending to collapse as she jumped on him, and telling his friend, who leaned against the door, to run while he could.

There were some resemblances between him and Andromeda, so it was no surprise when he said,

"Hows it going baby cousin?"

"I'm not the baby cousin," she pouted back. "Cissy's the baby. I'm just the little cousin."

Cissy? Another relative?

"Can't argue with that logic," he smirked. "Who's this?" he asked pointing at me.

Before I could answer myself Andromeda said offhandedly

"Oh this is Carolina. She's my new best friend."

I raised an eyebrow at that. But I couldn't stop the feeling of warmth that spread through my tummy. I _knew_ we were going to be friends.

"And this Carolina, is my idiot cousin Evan, and his friend...?"

"Rodolphus," the leaner stated. "Rodolphus Lestrange."

"Evan Rosier," Evan said leaning over to shake my hand. "Sorry about Dromeda, she never does things properly. Always leaves the introductions half-ars- Hey!"

Dromeda had jumped on him again. There was a brief, playful tussle with many playful insults.

"Okay! Okay! I lied!" Evan proclaimed at last. "You're the most brilliant witch in the world and you never do things half arsed and everything you _do_ do is perfect and your my favourite cousin in the world and-"

They collapsed in a heap onto the seat.

"As I was saying Carolina, she's bloody mad. Attacks all round her, the flipping maniac. It's the Black blood in her you know."

Dromeda threw her wand at him and it smacked him in the face.

"Ah ah ah Dromeda!" He shook his finger in her face. "Number one rule of duelling. Don't throw your wand away. There are much better uses for it. Like so."

A flash of light and Lestrange had a full handlebar moustache.

Very funny Rosier," he spat as Dromeda and I collapsed into laughter. We were still laughing as he stormed out the door and down the carriage, Rosier following him.

No sooner had we gotten over that set of giggles when the door was slid open again .

"Evan?" Dromeda turned with a smile. But it wasn't her cousin. It was yet more people I didn't know. And from the look on Dromeda's face, neither did she.

A boy and a girl, our age, blinked back at us. They were both on the wrong side of chubby. And plain. And untidy.

"Do you mind if we sit here? Some older kids came in and stole our carriage as soon as we'd set off. Horrid of them wasn't it?"

With out waiting for an answer, the fat girl plonked her fat little behind on the seat beside Andromeda, not noticing the look of distaste shot at her.

"I'm Alice," she burbled. "Alice Maddison. And this is Ted."

The fair boy, smiled shyly at us and sat beside me. I edged closer to the window. The Ted boy's appearance screamed dirty. Was that jam on his face? Mama would have _killed_ me if I'd left the house looking like that!

"We've had an awful time trying to find another carriage. Everywhere's full! And I'm so clumsy. I kept tripping over my own feet. So did Ted. It's the darn movement of this train."

I gave her a bored look in the hope she would shut up. She didn't. Dromeda looked as if she was restraining herself from punching Madison.

"... older students running up and down as well. It's a wonder I haven't broken my leg." She gave a loud braying laugh that hurt my ears.

" I can't wait to get to Hogwarts. I wonder which House I'll be in. I'd like to go to Gryffindor, obviously. Mum and Dad went there and they say it's the best. What about you?"

Dromeda turned up my nose at her in disgust.

"Slytherin," she stated. "My whole families gone there and it sounds _by far_ the best."

Madison was either too deaf or too stupid to hear the threatening tone in her voice.

"Oh no! I've heard it's full of horrid witches and wizards in there. I think it sounds awful!"

Dromeda jumped to her feet, now fully intending to slap the face off the annoying little slug.

"I don't think Slytherin sounds the best," I spat from the corner. "I _know_ it's the best. The rest are filled to the brim with blood traitor filth. Are you a pureblood?"

The dopey smile slipped off her face. Her eyes widened in shock then narrowed in anger. Her mouth flopped open and closed like a fish. Dromeda looked close to laughing again.

"What's a pureblood?" A voice near the door asked. The Ted boy glanced at each of our faces in turn. "My parents are muggles see..."

"Oh your parents are muggles?" I smiled sweetly at him. This would be fun. "Then you wouldn't know. Here, I'll explain." I scooted closer to him, trying not to show how reluctant I was to go near him. "A pureblood is someone who has no muggles in their family. You on the other hand," I shot him a motherly look for good measure,"Are what's known as a 'mudblood'. It means you have muggle parents."

The Ted boy gave a little 'oh' of comprehension and nodded his head. Madison jerked like she'd been hit with a stinging hex and gave a squeak of indignation.

"And some purebloods think they're better than mudbloods," I continued standing and smirking at Dromeda, who grinned back. "You know why?"

"Why," the Ted boy asked. Eager to learn more about this new exciting world he had entered.

"Because we are better than you," I snapped spinning round to face him. His face barely had time to fall before I grabbed him by the tie and hissed my next words straight into his face.

"You. Are Filth!"

As a final touch I shoved him away from me and he crashed into the door. Alice rushed to his side with a howl of fury.

"You are horrible!" she shrieked. "That's a horrible thing to say! It's all lies Ted, don't listen to them!" The Ted boy looked shocked beyond belief.

I sneered at her.

"Leave would you please. You're creating an awful stink in here Mudblood." Dromeda said imperiously, enjoying every second."And take your blood traitor friend with you. She's a right bitch."

The Ted boy looked at her in disbelief. Showing the first sign of intelligence yet he silently led the spluttering Maddison out, where we heard her promptly burst into angry tears.

Dromeda and I smirked at eachother.

Not two seconds later, the older girl from earlier, Bella, poked her head round the door.

"There's two firsties crying out there, Dromeda." She smirked, face full of pride. "What did you do?"

Andromeda giggled and related the tale to her older sister as I retook my seat. The tiny bit of fear that still lingered in my stomach had all but disappeared. Andromeda was the friend I'd longed for. My sister's were too old, my brother too young, but here was a girl my age, that I could have fun with. Mentally, I was already crafting a letter to my family about how wonderful Hogwarts was. And we hadn't even arrived yet!

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**Review pretty please =D**


	6. The Best Years of Your Life

**I'm not dead! Just incredibly busy =D Hope you enjoy this... **

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**The Best Years of Your Life **

Some people said "your school days were the best years of your life." Carolina didn't know if that was true, but it had to be said, her own were pretty good.

She did well academically. From her first potion lesson it was clear she was talented. She was Slughorn's pet in class. At his dinner parties he would boast of her feats with a caudron, before moving onto the next person.

Her love of potions grew as they progressed into NEWT level. There she found the allure of finely crafted poisons. Poisons that could make a person writhe in pain. Poisons that could be administered slyly. Poisons that would never be detected once consumed.

"Not that we'll be making any of these," Slughorn chortled. "We just need to know about them, to help us learn the theory behind antidotes. We don't want anyone being poisoned now do we?"

Carolina laughed with the rest of the class.

Then brewed some secretly in her dorm.

Just to see if she could.

Just to see what it would be like.

She always through them out afterwards. It wasn't like she was going to use them.

Her best friend Andromeda thought she was mad.

"Waste of a good poison!" she would complain.

Carolina would just smile at her and close the curtains in her face.

Carolina liked Slughorn. He could be boring and repetitive, but he praised her constantly. And that was all she really wanted from people at this stage. Praise.

Although some expressed their praise in odd ways.

Dromeda showed people she liked them by insulting them frequently. Carolina couldn't walk into the common room without hearing "Oi Zabini you ugly Italian bitch! Get over here!"

"Charming Blackie." Carolina would state raising an eyebrow. "And what would Mama Black say if she could hear you?"

Dromeda just laughed.

She was the best friend ever. Even if she was a rich, spoilt brat.

"Wow you're house is tiny," she had exclaimed the first time she visited. And without even seeing Carolina's mildly irritated face she continued in the same breath, "I like it."

It meant alot to Carolina.

She nearly died when she first saw Andromeda's house. It was a palace! Almost as big as Hogwarts, and a million times grander.

"You- Live here?" she had choked out.

"Yeah," Dromeda had replied casually. "It's a pretty awesome house."

Dromeda just didn't do modesty. It was one of the things Carolina liked about her.

"Why should I play down how brilliant I am?" she was fond of saying.

She was also incredibly loyal. To friends and especially family. More than once Carolina saw her beating up some poor unfortunate who had slighted someone in her "circle." Carolina's first boyfriend experienced Dromeda's wrath.

"Thank you," she had whispered across the darkened dorm.

For what?" Dromeda had replied.

"Nothing," Carolina responded, knowing that somewhere in the castle, Wilson Lament was nursing a bleeding nose.

The unofficial war against Madison cemented their friendship even further. Madison couldn't see Andromeda in the corridors without saying something hateful, and Dromeda couldn't see Madison without wanting to hex something.

As Dromeda's best friend, Carolina was often caught in the cross fire.

Carolina wasn't as rash as Andromeda. Dromeda would let loose with the insults and jinxes as soon as look at someone. Carolina preferred to let her _opponent_ exhaust their bank of cheap shots and then, when they were silent, she would let a scathing remark drop from her tongue and cut the feet from under the person foolish enough to go against her.

More than once she had reduced Madison to a fuming, bumbling mess.

And if the verbal offence didn't work, there were many other ways to get revenge, subtler than pointing your wand to someone's throat.

"My ways are more fun," Dromeda would giggle.

"But my ways are more effective," Carolina would state.

"Tch, in your opinion."

And in Carolina's opinion they were.

One day she walked into the potions classroom and nearly banged into Andromeda who had stopped dead.

"That little..." she hissed before trying to usher Carolina out the door.

But Carolina had already seen. Slashed across the blackboard.

ZABINI IS A HORE

She didn't rage or scream (Dromeda was doing enough of that behind her.) She gracefully turned, the picture of placid, and paced to the back of the room. Leaning over Madison's desk and right into her face, she stated calmly, loud enough for the whole class to hear

"You spelt "whore" wrong."

Her love of potions got her her first job.

She was a sales girl at Madame Pimpernelle's Beautifying Potions, located at 275 Diagon Alley. It was just a badly paid summer job, to give her pocket money to spend on Hogsmeade weekends, but it gave her a satisfying sense of independence. And led to her first _real_ job.

Madame Pimpernelle was a stout, fussy witch, who covered her rather plain face with and absurd amount of make-up which suited her, none-the-less. Whenever she was displeased she would scrunch up her nose like a bunny and Merlin help the person that had caused her upturned button nose to scrunch.

It scrunched the day Carolina got her first _real_ job.

"But she must come soon!" Madame Pimpernelle had wailed. "She can't just leave me in the lurch like this!"

"Sorry," the photographer had said. "I have other shoots to go to. If you can't produce your model I'll have to leave."

"Nooooooooo!" Madame Pimpernelle cried clutching his arm. Desperately her eyes searched the room for something to make him stay. They landed on Carolina.

"Miss Zabini will model for us."

Carolina nearly dropped the box of moisturising potions she was carrying.

The photographer studied her.

"Yes. She's quite pretty. She'll do well enough."

"How old is she?"

"Seventeen."

"Perfect. Get her sorted."

"But- I -uh!" Carolina stuttered as Madame Pimpernelle dragged her to a mirror at the front of the shop, beside which stood two girls who had arrived with the photographer..

"Betty, put some colour onto her face. Glinda's left me hanging too often, Carolina's our model for today."

She sat bemused as Betty attacked her face with various brushes. She'd never realised how long one could take to put on make-up, but Betty was on her for a good forty five minutes, while the other girl, Tessa, attacked her hair.

Once finished they looked at Carolina oddly and led her to the photographer. He also looked at her oddly.

She posed beside the new range of lipsticks that were to feature in next weeks article. It was as natural as breathing. She smiled. She pouted. She fluttered her eyelashes.

Madame Pimpernelle looked at her oddly.

"Am I doing something wrong?"

"No dear!" Madame Pimpernelle exclaimed in a shocked voice. "It's just that-, well, you are _quite_ pretty."

Carolina glanced at her self in a nearby mirror.

Certainly the make-up helped emphasise her best features; it made her eyes look even bigger, though not ridiculously so. But asides from that all she saw was her own face staring back at her. Normal as it had been since she was old enough to recognise herself.

"Yes," the photographer agreed emphatically. "Absolutely stunning. Incredibly photogenic."

Something warm stirred in Carolina's chest.

"Much prettier than Glinda," Madame Pimpernelle twittered. "I want you as our new shop model. You must do all our shots from now on."

The warmth became a fiery burn. Her head was spinning. This couldn't be real.

But it was.

Madame Pimpernelle chirped abut her future career as a model. Betty and Tessa gushed over her features and hair. The photographer gave her his number and said he'd be in touch about other jobs. Carolina watched as if it was a dream.

Three days later an owl came for her at breakfast. It gave her a copy of Witch Weekly and a letter informing her that Nine Galleons had been deposited in her account at Gringotts.

Nine Galleons! More than she made in a week serving customers! All for standing and smiling for a few photos! Carolina didn't think her smile could go any wider.

Then she flipped open the magazine.

From page six her own eyes smouldered back at her.

Granted she was in the corner. A tiny advert for Madame Pimpernelle's beside a much larger article. But she was there. In witch weekly. She was a model!

Mama was so proud.

Papa was too. Though he kept staring at her sorrowfully and sighing "my baby girl."

Carolina was too elated to notice. She bounced round the kitchen with Benji as he chanted "Cleena's a model! Cleena's a model!"

An hour later Dromeda burst through the floo with Cissy in tow, bringing hugs and squeals of delight.

An hour after that she received a howler from the slighted Glinda.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT I FELL ILL!" it screeched. "YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO STEAL MY SHOOT!"

By the time she went back to school she'd done even more shoots, and not just for Madame Pimpernelle. The boys were all over her. And the girls were either madly happy for her, madly jealous or madly both. Madison's glares grew darker.

And at Christmas time, late the night before she left for home, someone pushed that first copy of witch weekly across the desk she was working at and murmured, "You're pretty Zabini."

She glanced up in time to see Blaise Pascal disappear into the boys dormitories. Beside the magazine was a small box, wrapped in fawn paper and tied with a chocolate coloured bow. Eagerly ripping it open she discovered a broad silver chain with a large amber pendant.

In the dimness of the deserted common room, Carolina smiled.

* * *

**Awww! Pretty jewelry =D Come on that deserves a review!**


	7. Regina

**A levels are horrendous! So I'm taking a break from the homework (probably not a good idea) and introducing you to the first of seven. =D**

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* * *

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**Regina**

**Blaise Pascal **

She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. I noticed it at the end of sixth year. Up 'til then she'd just been a girl. And girls were, well, _girls_. First you hated them and thought they were weird, then you hit puberty and learned about kissing and such, and suddenly girls became fascinating.

But it was the end of sixth year I noticed her. She was bent over a cauldron stirring away, with an unconscious smile on her face. It just hit me out of the blue. One minute everything was normal then BAM! Carolina Zabini became the most beautiful girl ever born.

Why had I never noticed it before?

Her eyes especially. Deep chocolate pools you could just dive into. Framed with lashes so long and black, they didn't move, they _swept_, when she blinked. Her full red lips stretched wide in a lazy smile or puckered up into a pout. Her little button nose. So cute you just wanted to kiss it and make her giggle. Her hair so black and shiny, it looked like the ink we used to dip girls' pigtails in. Long ago.

I was so busy staring at her I didn't even realise my own potion was bubbling over 'til Parkinson yelled and drew all eyes, including hers, to the melted blob that was my cauldron.

In the commotion that followed I saw her expression. It was full of contempt. Self preservation kicked in and I shot her a cheeky grin then shrugged my shoulders in an exaggerated display of "Aw well." I saw her laugh and shake her head.

She was so pretty when she laughed.

Like a Queen.

An Italian Queen.

My Regina.

And then we went home for summer. And when we came back she was a model. Suddenly every boy in the whole school realised what I'd realised all those months ago. She was _beautiful_.

They swarmed her. She loved it. But she always turned them down. It was obvious why. Those boys hadn't noticed _her_ before she got her picture in the magazines, so why should she notice _them_ now? She didn't want a boyfriend like _that_!

I'd noticed! But like an idiot I hadn't said anything. And now it was too late. If I said anything, she'd think I was like them. Only sucking up to her now she was a model. It wasn't true! But how could she know that? So I kept my distance. Fuming at my lost chance. Agonising over it at night.

Finally I couldn't take it. I had to say something.

So I hunted down the first copy of Witch Weekly. Her first shoot. She was so beautiful.

But I didn't have the courage to tell her that. Everyday I told myself that Today I would say something to her. Today was my day.

It never was.

And then it was Christmas time. She was going home in the morning, and over the holidays she'd probably do more modelling and the boys would swarm her again. And I'd lose my chance. _Again._

I waited. And waited. And suddenly the common room was empty. It was just me and her. Silently I padded over to her, pushed the magazine and Christmas present I had got her across the table and murmured "You're pretty Zabini."

And then I turned and left. Didn't wait for her reply. Just ran away like a coward.

As soon as I reached the safety of the dorm I slid to the ground and groaned.

Pretty? That was the best compliment I could come up with? Pretty? Pretty!

Merlin what a fool I was!

I didn't see her again 'til after the holidays. To be honest I avoided her that last day of term. I spent the holidays thinking about what an idiot I was. What an idiot _she_ must think I was.

And then it was term time again. And in the darkness of the deserted common room two slim brown hands covered my eyes.

"Do you really think I'm pretty?" a voice whispered.

Dry mouthed I nodded.

A package dropped in my lap.

I stared at it as the hands were removed, then turned to see where they had gone.

She stopped in the entrance to the girls dorms. Glancing at me, she smiled. A quick seductive smile that had my heart racing. Then she flitted up the stairs and was gone.

Eagerly I ripped the paper apart.

It was a green and red scarf, home made. Green and red. Christmas colours. Italian colours. I loved it.

"It isn't much," she said a few evenings later. We were in a disused classroom this time. "Nowhere near as pretty as that necklace you gave me."

She fingered her neck line.

"But I thought... I don't know what I thought."

She blushed. Colour staining her cheeks, making her look even more beautiful in my eyes. _Blushing bride._ The phrase leapt unbidden to my mind.

"I love it. Thanks."

The words seemed so insignificant compared to my feelings. But she smiled as though I'd paid her the greatest compliment ever.

She kissed me.

In a dimly lit old dungeon classroom, as we perched on the edge of a desk, our lips met. Slowly my arms edged round her waist, and hers round my neck. I carded my fingers through her hair and felt her sigh in happiness.

_This is the best kiss of my life, _I thought.

I was wrong.

The second was better.

The third even better than that.

By the fourth I was addicted to her. Or perhaps I'd always been addicted, from that first time in the classroom, when she laughed.

We didn't make a big deal of it in public. Other couples were always draped round each other, snogging the living daylights out of one another, not caring who saw. The most blatant being Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black. Sometimes I wondered how they breathed.

But we were more casual. Sometimes holding hands. The occasional hug. A very brief and chaste kiss before she buggered off to hang around with her friends.

But in the evenings... at the end of the day, when no one was around to wolf whistle, she would grab me by the face and kiss me 'til I saw stars and couldn't walk straight.

I loved her just as much as Lucius loved Cissy.

The months flew by in a haze of bliss. Soon it was June. Our NEWTS were over and we could relax under the old oak tree in the grounds. All alone with no one to bother us.

"This can't go on Blaise."

"What?"

I stared at her confused. What on earth was she talking about?

"This. Us. We're eighteen for Merlin's sake, and we've been going out for Lord knows how many months!"

"Five."

"Exactly! Normal people don't do that Blaise. They break up after a month or two. They don't just keep going and going. Something always comes up."

"But nothings come up between us!"

"I know, but all the same. It's not like we're going to stay together forever and get _married_ is it?"

"But-"

"I'm eighteen!" She slammed her fist in her palm emphatically. "I'm far too young for a serious relationship. I wanna go out there, have a bit of fun, make a little money before I settle down. Come on Blaise_, we're_ doomed. Nobody marries the boy they went out with in school. Surely you can understand that?"

Not trusting myself to speak I nodded.

She patted my shoulder.

"It's not that I don't like you Blaise, I do! You know that don't you? But we're just young. What we need is to get out and experiment. Meet new people. Fall in love."

"I am in love," I whispered.

"Don't be silly. Of course you aren't. We're far too young to fall in love." She shot me an appraising look. "What you need is to meet another nice girl and forget all about me."

I shook my head jerkily.

"Please Blaise. Just do it. For me."

I stared into her eyes. Her dark, dark, deep, chocolate eyes. I thought i saw tears.

"Ok," I murmured. "But I'll wait for you."

"What?"

It was her turn to look confused.

"I'll wait for you. And when you're finished with all your experimenting and your other boys I'll be there."

"Oh Blaise!"

She almost sobbed the words.

"I do love you."

I got a final hug and she was gone.

My Queen. My Regina.

Her career hit off big time. A year after leaving Hogwarts and she was a star. There wasn't a week went by, the Daily Prophet didn't have some interview with her. The glamour mags were full of her picture. I bought Witch Weekly every week. Just to see how she was getting on. I pretended it was for my sister.

Cossette of course did the sisterly thing and told me to wise up.

" Forget her Blaise. She's forgotten you."

I'd grunt in reply. And buy another magazine.

The papers told me so much about her life. And so little.

They told me of the parties she'd attended. Which dress she was wearing. What charities she donated to. Meaningless drivel. I ate it up like a starving man.

The grapevine told me more, but the grapevine was slow and biased and occasionally full of bull.

Later I found out the main events of those year apart.

Her best friend abandoned her family and ran off with a mudblood. I knew Andromeda Black at school. The title Pureblood Princess applied to her more than any other person I knew, save her own sisters. Carolina was devastated. Though not as devastated as little Cissy, whom she took under her wing.

The connection between the two families grew as Cissy's cousin Rosaline stared dating Carolina's brother Benji. They were the sweetest couple apparently. There's no love like your first love. And at fourteen years old, little Rosaline Rosier was little Beniamino Zabini's first girlfriend. And his last.

They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was a normal fourteen year old date. They had ice cream. They kissed. They giggled. They had a walk about, in early-teen boyfriend-girlfriend bliss. They didn't take note of where they were walking. They walked straight down Knockturn Alley and never thought anything of it. They'd been there before, sometimes together, sometimes with their parents. It wasn't bad. It wasn't forbidden.

But the Aurors were out looking for Death Eaters that day. They thought they'd found them too. Guilty people run was their logic. They didn't seem to realise that innocent people run too, when hexes are flying about the place.

There were no real Death Eaters there. But Knockturn Alley had a reputation and that made it perfectly ok for the authorities to start shooting in an old pub. It became a full brawl in the middle of a crowded street.

And two teenagers got caught up in the middle of it.

Two children.

There was a joint funeral. Two pure white coffins were lowered into the ground. Coffins smaller than any coffin has a right to be.

Carolina was devastated. Truly devastated. Relatives from every end of England and Italy came. Relatives who had visited fourteen years earlier to witness the birth of a baby boy, now came to throw a handful of dirt on his grave.

Balbina fell to her knees at the graveside and wailed. "Bambino mio!" she cried. "Bambino mio!" Aldo stood behind her clutching her shoulder and letting the tears form rivers down his cheeks. His grief was silent. His wife made enough noise for the both of them.

Carolina stood with her sisters and wept as she had never wept before. Her baby brother, her Beniamino, her Benji. Gone. Forever.

She would never talk to him again. Never see him run about. Never tell him to shut up and get out she was trying to do homework! Never smirk as his cheeks reddened whenever Rosaline Rosier came up in conversation. She was gone. He was gone. Truly gone.

And as the crowd began to clear and her Father led her Mother, still weeping, to the wake, she saw her.

She stayed 'til all had gone then confronted her best friend.

"How dare you come here."

I can imagine her icy tone. I can see in my mind how Andromeda, once so proud, would have shrunk in shame.

"My Cousin... I had to-"

"You don't belong here."

Her eyes would have flashed in anger.

"I've buried my brother today. And by burying him I've learned something. There is nothing more precious on this earth than your family, especially your little brother. Especially your younger siblings. They need to be protected by their big sisters. I wasn't there to protect Benji and now he's dead. Dead, dead, dead and I'll never see him again! And you!"

How acidic her gaze would've become.

"You abandoned yours! You left them for a creature not worthy to lick their shoes. Too vile for any decent person to want near them!"

"Ted is-"

"I don't want to hear it Andromeda! All I know is you have a little sister who needs you, who is crushed at what you did, and you're too selfish to go to her."

Andromeda would have clutched at Carolina's robes.

"Please look after her Carolina. Please look after my Cissy. Please. We were friends Carolina, please just do this one thing for me. If our friendship meant anything. Please!"

Carolina would have looked at her in disgust and pried her fingers from the black material of her mourning clothes.

"I will. But for her sake, not yours. Cissy is my friend and Merlin knows she needs her friends around her after what you've done."

"Thank you, Thank you," Andromeda would have sobbed.

"Shut up. I've already told you, it's not for you. I like Narcissa. She's my friend. Of course I'm going to look after her. She's had a terrible time. First her sister runs away, with a mudblood no less, and then her cousin dies. She needs a friend. And I'm going to be there for her, the way _you_ should be."

I can imagine Andromeda's dead eyes as Carolina walked away from her. And I agree with Carolina. She deserved it.

And walk away she did. Carolina dealt with her grief by looking after another person. She went into the wake and sat with Cissy Black and they both cried. And became better friends than even Carolina and Andromeda had been.

That day, unable to see his darling Cissy so upset and lonely, Lucius Malfoy proposed. With tears of joy, mingling with her tears of grief, seventeen year old Cissy had accepted. And when a twenty one year old Narcissa marched down the aisle on her Father's arm, Carolina stood behind her as a bridesmaid. Filling the space of the sister who wasn't present.

I was invited to the wedding. Everyone was.

And as I watched the new Mrs Malfoy twirling in her husbands arms on the dance floor, I felt a surge of longing for the woman standing beside me, in her pale blue bridesmaid gown.

Slowly her eyes sought my face. Slowly her hand reached for mine. Slowly she led me to the garden. Illuminated by a moon just one crescent away from being full.

She laid her head on my shoulder and murmured "I've missed you Blaise."

I kissed her head and replied "I've missed you too Regina." Her hair shone in the moonlight.

"You said you'd wait," she whispered. "Did you mean it."

I didn't reply.

Instead I lifted her chin and kissed her. Slowly. Tenderly. Silently.

We were married five months later.

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	8. Marriage

**A HUUUUUGE thankyou to my wonderful, new, Italian speaking Beta TuesdayNovember (Eliza**_**breath**)_** who had informed me that "'Strega' literally means witch. In this context, it would be like 'enchantress, sexy'" I love you Bess! **

* * *

**Marriage**

Carolina held Papa's arm tightly. His dark grey robes were a shocking contrast to her gown, making it seem even whiter. She glanced round at her bridesmaids. Isabella, Amata-Maria, Verdette, Blaise's sour looking sister Cossette, and Cissy. Darling Cissy.

"It's time, Pretty-Girl," Papa whispered in her ear as the music started.

She gazed at him with wide, startled eyes, like a frightened rabbit. Then she squared her shoulders and stood up tall. A determined glint came into her eye. A glint that both softened and hardened as she saw Blaise turn round and watch her gliding down the aisle. A million conversations went through her head.

"You're pretty, Zabini."

"Dromeda you'll never guess who I'm going out with!"

"Gosh, if I get kisses this good afterwards I should argue with you more, Regina."

"You're such an annoying shit, Blaise. I think that's why I like you."

"Of course you're keeping _your_ name Regina. Carolina Pascal just sounds boring!"

"Oh Blaise! I do love you!"

"Cry Regina. Cry as much as you want. It won't bring him back but it'll make you feel better, and he'd want you to feel better."

"I hate you."

"I hate you too."

"Oh kiss me you strega!"

She barely heard the service. The speeches, the crying, the songs. She only really registered four words.

"I do"

"I do"

"You may kiss the bride."

And for the first time, Blaise and Carolina kissed in public as passionately as they did in private.

"Bambina," sobbed Balbina. "Oh bambina mia!"

_If only Benji were here to see this,_ Carolina thought as she and Blaise took their first dance as Man and Wife. _Then everything would be perfect. _

Benji wasn't there. But Blaise was. And Blaise was so perfect. Gazing at her adoringly, as if he were the lucky one instead of her.

_How could I ever have let him go? S_he thought. _That had to be the stupidest thing I'd ever done._

They spent their honeymoon in Tuscany, and started married life as they meant to go on.

"Blaise where the hell are my sunglasses?"

"How the hell should I know Regina- Would you stop pointing that damn knife at me!

"It's a dagger you idiot! Now have you seen my sunglasses?"

"Looks like a bloody knife to me. I already told you no! Ask a house elf to get them for you."

"I don't want to."

"Why not for Merlin's sake!"

"I don't like them. They're creepy."

"Oh for the love of- Seriously stop pointing that thing at me! That's what they're for!"

"Oh here they are. See you on the beach."

"Tch. Meeting on the beach is for people who aren't married." Blaise hooked his arms under her knees and shoulders. "I'm going to carry my wife!"

Carolina giggled and dropped her dagger as he swung her over his shoulder.

"You just wait, Blaise. When I get down from here I'm going to kiss you so hard, you won't be able to talk anymore!"

He grinned toothily at her.

"I can't wait."

_Yes,_ Carolina thought. _Marriage was brilliant._

_

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**Awk aren't they a sweet couple!**_  
_


	9. Baby

**Baby **

**Carolina Zabini**

I stood in my blade room appraising my collection. It had grown very vast. Almost every time I did a successful shoot, or a particularly good job, I would treat myself and buy another. I had hundreds, ranging from basic wooden handled knives, to the most extravagant ruby encrusted, pure gold monstrosity of a sword that Blaise bought me for our first anniversary.

I didn't turn as he entered, didn't acknowledge him as he snaked his arms around my waist, didn't react as he pressed a kiss to my cheek. I stared blankly at my blades.

"I'm going to have a baby."

Blaise let out a sound that was half a sob, then swung me into his arms, kissing me and calling me his beautiful Regina. Joy filled me and my numb façade crumbled. I was to have Blaise's child! Blaise's child. _Our _child.

x-CZ-x

"Mama?"

"Pretty-Girl! Aldo come quick, our famous daughter has condescended to visit us for the first time in Merlin knows how many weeks!"

I smiled at her biting sarcasm. She was happy to see me.

Poor Mama. Three daughters living in Italy, me often too busy to visit, and her son...

Papa clasped my head in his hands and smiled softly at me. He missed his family just as much as Mama. Isabella, Amata-Maria and Verdette lived too far away for him to visit his grandchildren as regularly as he would have wanted and I was such an infrequent visitor. For the hundredth time I resolved to visit more often.

"I'm going to have a baby."

Their reactions were as elated and violent as Blaise's. Mama all but leapt across the kitchen and I was enveloped in a bone crunching hug, by both my parents.

I pressed a hand to my flat stomach.

_You see how many people love you bambino? _

x-CZ-x

I curled up beside Blaise on the rug in front of the fire as he stroked my belly. I was finally beginning to show a little. I had worried about having to give up modeling for a while, but Signore Lombardi, my agent, had instead managed to temporarily increase my work load .He made my new baby big news, and lots of people searching for models seemed delighted to take a new twist and have a pregnant one.

"Just the early stages, cara mia," he assured. "We won't make you do too much nearer the time."

Lazily I traced Blaise's fingers with my nails. Life was good.

x-CZ-x

I retched loudly in the toilet as Blaise held my hair.

"There, there Regina."

"Shut up!"

I retched again.

"You know nothing my Blaise! Nothing! You don't know what I'm going through!"

"Yes, yes, I'm just an ignorant man."

"Shut up!"

x-CZ-x

I stormed angrily out of the floo, trailing ash on to Narcissa's spotless rug. Behind me Blaise's voice called "Regina, please! There's no ne-"

An ornament smashed over his head.

"Oh hello Blaise."

Cissy appeared in the doorway, hand on her own bump, smiling serenely as if I hadn't just started throwing her possessions at my husband. I glared at her.

"Don't be nice to him."

"Oh?" Her voice took on that amused quality she had recently adopted around me.

"He's being mean!"

"No! What did he do?"

I sat down violently on a nearby chair.

"He won't go out and buy me a rose scented sponge."

"How awful of him!" A smile flickered at the corners of her mouth.

"It is! I _need _a rose scented sponge and he won't get it for me!"

I threw a sulky pout in Blaise's direction. He looked as if he was restraining himself, with great difficulty, from rolling his eyes.

Why did no one take me seriously anymore! I made legitimate requests, just like I always had, and was duly upset if they weren't met. And they had the nerve to laugh patronisingly at my "unreasonable demands" and "little fits" and put it down to my hormones going crazy! Cissy was pregnant too! And anyway it had nothing to do with my pregnancy, I just really needed a rose scented sponge... to gnaw on.

x-CZ-x

I nuzzled into Blaise's neck. He didn't look up from the parchments he was reading, but he did smile. I took it as a sign I should snatch them and throw them away.

"Regina!"

I smirked flirtatiously into his annoyed face, and dotted butterfly kisses on his nose and cheeks.

"I'm not going to get any work done am I?

"Work doesn't belong in bed."

"Mmmm."

"Besides, I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"Baby names."

"Oh?"

"Yes. And I've decided what I want if it's a boy."

"You've decided? In other words I have no say?"

"Exactly."

"Oh! So what name do you want then?"

"I want to call it Blaise."

"Blaise! Why on earth would you want to call it Blaise!"

"My favourite person in the world's called Blaise."

His expression softened and he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"Okay. If that's what you want, we'll call him Blaise."

I returned his kiss, on his neck.

"But I get to give him a name too."

I smiled into shoulder.

"A middle name you mean?"

"No. His surname."

I leaned back confused.

"But his surname will be Pascal. Your name's Pascal and you're his Father."

"Yes Regina, but you're his Mother."

"But-"

"And this way he gets one name from each of us. I'll give him Blaise and you give him Zabini. Blaise Zabini. It's wonderful. Unique!"

"Blaise Zabini."

It rolled off my tongue.

"I like it."

x-CZ-x

Cossette had been moaning again.

I shouldn't be modelling at seven months, I was going to hurt the baby.

That _bitch_! How dare she! I would never do anything to hurt my precious bambino! I was always very careful. I took breaks. I drank water. I made everyone stop if I felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable.

I spat fire at her. I called her every spiteful name I could remember, while Blaise held my arms to stop me going for her with my wand.

"Just leave Cossette. You're overexciting her."

"I'm not overexcited! I'm angry! Let me go Blaise, I'm going to teach her a lesson!"

x-CZ-x

I stared at my bare midriff in the mirror. It was a neat little bump. Attractive even. Right on cue, Blaise appeared behind me.

"You look good enough to eat, Regina," he breathed as his tongue flicked the shell of my ear.

"As do you, my Blaise. As do you."

x-CZ-x

It really was the most awkward time.

I was just about to crawl into bed when my waters broke. And boy did it gush. I thought I'd wet myself.

"Blaise!"

"Shhh Regina. Don't panic."

He stayed calm. He put my dressing gown on my, guided me to the floo and didn't even flinch when I gripped his hand so hard my nails left indents.

"I love you Blaise, I love you!" whimpered incoherently holding on to him as we swirled with the fire.

As I lay on the bed at St Mungos, I regained coherency.

_"I HATE YOU! YOU BASTARD! YOU DID THIS TO ME! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT YOU- YOU- OOOOH!"_

Blaise just stroked my hair and kissed my hand, taking my screams as if I were murmuring sweet nothings to him.

"It's a boy!"

I gaped at the Healer. Hand bleeding in my grasp Blaise gave a sob. One great heaving sob that made my breath catch in my throat.

"A boy! Carolina we have a boy! A beautiful baby boy! Oh Regina!"

The fatigue of labour disappeared. I sat up instantly and demanded my son.

The Healer placed a tiny little creature, wrapped in a blue blanket into my arms. It was surreal. He was so... perfect. His tiny mouth opened and closed silently showing us his tiny gums. His dark, wispy hair brushed the tips of his tiny ears. Tiny hands waved through the air searching for his Mama.

"Mama's here," I cooed. "Mama's here, bambino-mia."

My eyes sought Blaise's. They were full of adoration and love for this tiny little being we had created.

"And here's Papa."

Wordlessly, Blaise held out his arms for our son.

Gently I passed over the delicate little bundle. For a moment he couldn't speak and merely stared in awe at our baby. Finally he found his voice.

"Welcome to the family, Blaise Zabini. We've been waiting for you."


	10. Mama

**The biggest shout out ever to my wonderful, wonderful oh so wonderful Beta Tuesday November! You are actually the best!**

**Meno male: pronounced MEH-no MA-lay thank god, and**  
**bambino terribile: prounounced te-RI-bi-lay naughty child.  


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**Mama **

**Balbina Zabini **

"Mama" is not an easy job. Mama mia, it's not! And a mama's job is to put herself out of a job, and maybe... pass on the title.

I haven't done too badly in that respect. All four of my girls now bear the title "Mama."

It was scary the first time. Isabella went to Italy, snapped her fingers and came back with a new man. He knew as well as anyone that what Isabella wants, Isabella gets, and she wanted him. They got married. They had babies. Lots of babies! Seven in total by the time they had finished, long after all my other daughters had stopped. And without the financial constraints Aldo and I had faced, thanks to my clever Izzy's career (and her new man's substantial wealth.)

They lived the life of matrimonial bliss that every Mama dreams for her daughter the moment she is first placed in her arms.

Verdette followed Isabella. "If Izzy can make it as an actress in Italy, I can make it as a singer!" And she did. Very successfully. I was worried about sending her. I'd never approved of any of her boyfriends. They were all so wild! Just like her I suppose.

But she caught the eye of a charming young man. A very tame and respectable and gentle young man. Not like my little Verdette in any way, _meno male_! They got married. They had babies. Though not quite so many as Isabella.

Oh I was sure my Verdette would love her little ones, just as much as any mother, but nobody ever saw Verdette as a maternal type. It was a great shock seeing _her_ turned into Mother of the Year by her brood of three. But Verdette, my spoilt little baby was the most loving Mama you've ever seen. Later, when her youngest was asked, by her cousin Blaise, who she loved most in the world, she replied "Mama of course... oh and Papa I suppose."

Amata-Maria was unexpected. She was always so quiet with her books, and if truth be told, I expected my middle daughter to stay at home far longer than she did. But she too went to Italy. She too found her inspiration and she too was very successful. All that time spent with her nose in a book did her good. I had no idea she could write so well. She's the best author I know. And I don't say that only because I'm her Mama.

She too met a husband, another author, and they had two children. Twins, a boy and a girl. But her author man was a flighty lover. She discovered him with yet another author and he left her with the bambinos, both not yet five years old and confused as to where their Papa had gone. They never saw him again.

I begged her to come home. My poor little Amata-Maria. I wanted to take her back into my house with her poor little bambinos, and let Mama look after her and protect them all from the nasty world.

She refused.

"Italy is their home Mama. I can't drag my children off to another country. They're upset enough as it is without leaving their home."

She stayed and raised them herself. And finer children you have never seen. They are polite and well behaved but not sickeningly so, like those children that do nothing but suck up to adults, bah! They have a spark of life about them and a mischievous streak runs through both. It is a joy to have them visit and hear them babble in rapid Italian to me, despite their Mama's reproach they should "Speak English in England you bambino terribile!"

I was so proud of my three daughters and oh so happy for them. But a part of me sighed with relief when Pretty-Girl brought home her _English_ fiancé.

Oh Blaise Pascal was a wonderful man. A king among men. And my Carolina was his beloved Regina. His family were all perfectly lovely. His Mother hailed from Italia just like us, making him even more suitable for my precious Pretty-Girl. And his Father's family were French, which I'm sure was the next best thing. They were lovely people, graciously complementing everything when they first visited us, from my cooking to the curtains. Even more amazing was their sincerity. They really did like our home. I nearly died of shock seeing theirs. A sprawling manor in the country side. _Mama mia, Pretty-Girl,_ I thought. _If I didn't know you so well I'd think you were a gold-digger. _

Pretty-Girl got on very well with her new in-laws. But, she had a very antagonistic relationship with Blaise's sister. She could go on for hours about "that nasty Cossette!" But I could see, as only a Mama can, that they were very, very similar girls. Both held a great respect for the other, though they would never have admitted this. Personally I liked Cossette. She was a very pleasant girl.

And even Carolina had to admit she loved Blaise. And then Little Blaise came along.

Cossette was an adoring Aunt.

Carolina complained to her in the hospital "He's my bambino! I want to hold him."

Reluctantly Cossette had placed Little Blaise back in his Mama's arms.

There was venom in both of their gazes. But also a hidden respect for the other's love of Little Blaise.

Silly girls. They could've been the best of friends.

We all loved little Blaise. Such a good bambino, just like his Mama. Carolina could stare at him for hours cradled in her arms.

"He looks like his Daddy," she would proudly state. "He'll be the image of Blaise when he grows up."

I observed my baby Grandson with a smile. A tiny, coffee coloured creature, with wispy dark hair, a button nose, and the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen on a boy child.

_No Pretty-Girl,_ I smiled to myself. _He looks like you._

He brought to mind another little boy that looked like my Carolina.

I had done a good job with my girls. I had put myself out of a job. I had raised them so they didn't need their Mama anymore. They had flown from my nest and formed their own.

But one little boy would never fly from Mama's nest. Instead he lay under a pillow of marble and a blanket of soil. My Benji was gone. But he did not fly. He was taken.

I stroked a finger along Little Blaise's cheek and hoped, with all my being, that none of my daughters ever lost what I had lost.


	11. Bambino

**As always credit to my wonderful Beta Bess, who will sadly be leaving us **

***Mass Awwwwwwww!* **

**But will be returning in December **

***Mass YAAAAAAAAY!* **

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**Bambino**

**Carolina Zabini**

A baby. I had a baby. A tiny little being who depended on _me_ for everything. I was thrilled. I was terrified. I was so desperately, desperately happy.

Every day was wonderful. A heap of hazy, sleep-deprived wonderful. Not one night passed that Blaise and I didn't have the exact same argument.

"Blaise I'll go."

"No Regina you need your sleep."

"For Merlin's sake so do you!"

"You need it more. You have a job."

"So do you, you dolt!"

"Yes, but no one at my work cares what I look like. _I _can walk into the office with massive bags under my eyes. _You _can't."

"Oh- just- but- you get back in this bed this instant my Blaise!"

"Go to sleep, Regina."

And unless he had had a particularly exhausting day, he would kiss my forehead and go to feed our screaming infant.

What a treasure he was.

Odd how quickly I stopped calling Little Blaise 'Blaise'. From his first week on this earth I referred to him solely as Bambino.

"Good morning Bambino."

"Is Bambino hungry?"

"Blaise! Bambino needs changing!"

Blaise, of course, found it hilarious.

"What was the point of naming him after me if you were just going to call him Bambino?"

"Well if I call him Blaise you'll look up every time I go to talk to him."

"Then what was the point of naming him after me?"

"It's a lovely name."

"Then call him it."

"No."

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed Bambino's downy head.

"I'll call him it when you're dead, ok?"

"Your Mother's mad Bambino. Just mad."

x-CZ-x

Cissy had cooed over him.

"He's lovely Carolina. Looks just like you."

"No he doesn't." I was beginning to get annoyed when people said that. "He looks like Blaise! Look at him."

"Of course he does." She gave me _that_ look. The one full of indulgent mirth, as though she was about to burst into laughter, but was too polite to actually do it. But then she gave my Bambino a genuinely sweet smile.

"He is lovely Carolina. I'm jealous."

One hand went to her rounded stomach as my Bambino made mewling noises in her arms.

"Do you want to go back to Mummy? Is that what you want? Yes. Yes, go back to Mummy, baby. There you go."

She passed him over with a grace and gentleness I envied.

"You're going to be a wonderful mother Cissy."

Happiness spread over her features like warmth.

"Do you have any names yet?"

"...Some."

"Well... Share!"

"_No_," she breathed. "I couldn't possibly. You'll have to wait 'til he is she is born."

"Oh that's not fair! I told you what mine was going to be called."

"Yes, well, we're still looking at our options."

"Liar! You have a name picked."

"Be that as it may, I'm not telling you, so there."

She stuck her tongue out at me. I stuck mine right back out at her.

"Now, now Carolina! You're a Mummy now. You have to set a good example."

"Oh damn you're right."

"Language."

"Oh pft! It's only my Bambino. It's not as if I'm corrupting somebody else's."

"At the moment."

"Oh what's wrong? Afraid I'll lead Baby Malfoy into bad habits?"

"Maybe."

"I do apologise Cissy," I laughed. "I promise I'll keep my distance from your precious little darling."

She gave an odd little half smile.

"Well I wouldn't have you do that. In fact, I'd rather hoped you'd be seeing a lot of my precious little darling."

She looked up at me with a gently hopeful expression.

"In fact… I rather hoped you'd be Godmother."

My lips parted but no sound came out. I gaped at her in confusion.

"Oh, you don't have to, just..."

She wanted me as Godmother. She wanted to give _me _the honour. She wanted me to have a close relationship with her child. She trusted me!

"I'd love to."

My voice came out as a croak.

She smiled radiantly, as if she was the one gaining a brilliant gift, not me.

She smiled just as radiantly a few weeks later when she placed a pale haired, wriggling newborn in my arms.

Draco Malfoy examined me with curious eyes. His fist jerked wildly through the air until it finally found its destination and lodged itself in his mouth.

"Hello Draco. I'm your Godmother."

He stared intently at my face, sucking at his fingers.

Cissy stared at him adoringly as I gently rocked him. Beside her, Lucius looked as though he was about to burst with pride.

"He's lovely Cissy. He looks just like you."

She gave a tinkling little laughed and threaded her fingers through Lucius's.

"No. I think he looks like his Daddy."

I snorted.

"Well you're wrong Cissy. He'll be the spit of you when he grows up."

"No, I really think he looks like Lucius."

"Good Merlin! Why does everyone disagree with me about how babies look!"

Blaise appeared in the door holding our Bambino.

"Sorry I'm late. Gosh, he looks just like you Lucius!"

_For goodness sake! _

I kept insisting and insisting but no one would believe me. Everyone who took a look at Little Draco said the exact same thing.

"He'll be a dead ringer for his Daddy when he grows up."

Idiots!

"They're all silly aren't they Draco," I clucked. "You look like your Mummy don't you?"

On the floor, two month old Draco smiled at me wetly around his fist. Little Blaise gurgled beside him, pushing his head up to look at me.

"That's right Bambino. Tell him he looks like his Mummy."

Cissy laughed and rolled her eyes.

"She's mad, sweetie isn't she?"

Some drool dribbled down Draco's fist onto his chin and he kicked his legs at us.

"That's right sweetie. Carolina's barking."

I batted her round the head with a cushion.

"You only did that because you know I'm right."

"Oh shut up!"

I laughed as she mock pouted at me and fixed her already perfect hair.

She opened her mouth to give a reply. A reply I never heard. A reply I forgot about until much later.

Lucius, grey faced and distressed burst in through the floo.

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**Review please =D**


	12. Life

**It has been disgustingly long since I updated!**

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**Life **

**Blaise Pascal **

Good Merlin I loved my life!

That was the first thought that went through my head, every day when I opened my eyes and saw her face. Even in sleep her lips would be pressed into that pout I loved so much. Occasionally I would attempt to wake her by gently pressing my own lips to hers

Sometimes her eyelids would flutter open sleepily, then close again as she deepened our kiss, and she would whisper "Good morning," into my chin.

More often she would smack my face away and roll over growling "Leave me be. I'm trying to sleep, damn you!"

My loving wife.

Today though, I was treated, to the first option. She stroked my cheek as she leaned back on the head board, and mewled when I moved to get dressed.

"I love you my Blaise, you know that don't you?"

"I do."

"Then prove you love me! Skive work and lets spend the day in bed."

Robes half on, I crawled across the bed and balanced on my arms over her.

"Nothing would give me more pleasure Regina..."

I dipped my head to plant butterfly kisses on her nose. Her cheeks. Her eyelids.

"But we have a baby-" Kiss. "So we couldn't-" Kiss "Stay in bed all day-" Kiss. "Anyway." Kiss. "And besides-" Kiss. "I-" Kiss. "Have-" Kiss. "To-" Kiss. "Go-" Kiss. "To-" Kiss. "Work."

I allowed her to grasp the back of my head and pull my mouth, once again, towards hers. When she finally let me go, I was late.

"This is you fault," I grouched good naturedly, pulling on my socks.

"Well I don't care how late you are for work," she purred lazily. "Just don't be late tonight. I miss you."

I know she always loves me, no matter what mood she's in. But when Carolina is in a lovey-dovey mood, you take all you can get!

I went back for a last kiss.

On the one hand, Mr Robbins would be pissed off. On the other, I'd just received more kisses that morning that he'd had in the last year. I would use that to content myself when he started yelling about tardiness.

Reluctantly breaking off the kiss before it got even more heated, and I _did_ end up spending the day at home, I backed out of my room. I strode briskly down the hall. One last thing to do before I left.

Little Blaise was wide awake and smiled as I came in. I always got a lump in my throat when he did that. I still couldn't believe this perfect little being was part me. How did I ever make something so beautiful?

I picked him up cooing like the doting old woman I was.

"Good morning Bambino. Have you got a smile for your Daddy, before he goes to work?"

Little Blaise obliged.

I pecked him on the forehead.

Carolina's hand on my arm turned me to smile at her.

"Can you believe he's ours?"

"No."

He started to fuss as he moved to her arms. Strange. He was usually such a good baby, in the mornings. The ones he'd managed to sleep through anyhow. And he loved his Mama. He always went without protest to Carolina. Often when someone else was holding him he would clamour to be in her arms again. It wasn't often he did it with me.

But today he did it.

Today he didn't want his Daddy to leave.

Today I looked back, as I walked through the floo, and saw two people, the two people I loved most in this world, who wanted me to stay.

I didn't.

I regretted it as soon as I walked into the office.

"What time do you call this Pascal! Swanning in at what ever time you want! It';s not good enough! Acting as if you owned the place..!"

I toned him out. What a pathetic little man Mr. Robbins was. He knew perfectly well this job was not exactly a necessity for me. I could quit right this very second if I wanted. Hell a few well placed bribes and I could get _him_ fired, if I so chose. But did he realise this? No. He couldn't quite wrap his tiny half blood brain around it. All he knew was his marriage was driving him to distraction and he needed to take it out on someone. Personally I didn't see why we were to blame for his tragic Muggleborn Missus nagging him constantly and denying him his "husbandly rights."

I'd love to see what would happen if I tried to deny Carolina her wifely rights!

I must have smirked because his volume soared. For being twenty minutes late, I was ranted at for half an hour. An excellent start the the day.

If my Father hadn't been so proud of having a son in the Department of International Magical Cooperation I would have quit long ago. But he was proud. So here I was.

I suppose it was good for me. If Carolina and I were left alone together twenty four hours a day... At least one of us would be dead by now. And lets be honest, it wouldn't be Carolina.

I picked up the photo of her I kept on my desk. I changed it constantly, but I always had one. This one had been taken just before she became pregnant. She fluttered her paper eyelashes at me. At the other side of my desk Little Blaise beamed gummily.

Surely it is the right of every man to gaze at pictures of his family, and wish he was with them, instead of translating ridiculous reports that no one will ever read.

Mr Robbins disagreed.

His home life was miserable and therefore no one else was allowed to enjoy theirs.

_Someone_ had to deliver this oh so important report on the thickness of Cauldron bottoms (of all the pointless topics!) and since you're _not doing anything_ Pascal...

And that was how I ended up walking the streets of Muggle London.

I could have apparated, but that would've been far too quick. I took any excuse to keep well away from that irritating little man.

_Besides, it was a lovely morning_, I thought glumly to myself as I crossed the Atrium, giving Lucius and glum nod. _Just the kind of dark, freezing, windy day that makes one want to trudge through a crowd of oddly dressed muggles all staring at your cloak. Thank Merlin it isn't raining!_

Outside I turned up my collar against the bitter cold and glared at a Muggle child rude enough to point. Good Lord, did these creatures have no manners!

I was about three streets away from the Ministry when he started following me. I didn't notice of course. I was far too caught up in my own little world, imagining different ways to torture Mr Robbins, to spare any attention to mere Muggle.

Five streets away he began to make sounds of frustration and passers-by gave him odd looks. Again I didn't notice.

Seven streets away he broke into a half trot. I didn't notice.

Ten streets away, he started to sprint towards me. It was a quieter street. No one within a ten foot radius of us and an alley to our left.

This time I noticed. With seconds to spare I heard the pounding footsteps and turned in bored interest.

He punched me in the stomach and I doubled over. My wand fell out of my robes and rolled across the pavement, out of reach. Desperately I thought about what Carolina would say. She'd die before she let a Muggle outsmart her.

His hands fumbled through my cloak, finding my purse and gold watch.

The watch my father gave me.

The watch I would one day give to Blaise.

I grabbed at it.

By some miracle I managed to get a hold on it. At the other end of the watch chain my attacker panicked. He tugged with all his might but he couldn't shake me loose.

I could smell his dingy clothes. I could hear his ragged breathing. I could see a flash of metal. I could feel a fiery-cold pain in my stomach.

A woman was screaming. A crowd was running towards us. With a gasp of fear he let go and took off down the nearby alley with my money.

I didn't notice.

Strawberry jam was seeping out of nowhere. It slowly formed a lopsided circle on the front of my shirt. Where was the jam coming from? How odd, it seemed in this situation.

More jam appeared round the handle sticking out of my chest. The more jam appeared the more pain I felt. Until... suddenly I stopped really feeling it at all. A soothing numbness enveloped me. It felt like I was floating.

_Not jam,_ I realised. _Blood. My blood. _

Centuries of Pascal purity.

Staining my shirt.

What a waste.

But the watch was still in my hand. The watch would go to Blaise. I had protected it from him. My blood lived on in his. It wasn't wasted.

On a filthy Muggle pavement, in a filthy Muggle street in the middle of filthy Muggle London, I smiled.


	13. St Mungos

**Hello gain. I'm back. And so is Bess (Yay! Cookies for everyone!)  
*Does the I have a brilliant Beta dance*  
**  
'**Dio boia 'colloquially, 'bloody god'  


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**St Mungos **

**Carolina Zabini**

I had seen a lot of expressions on Lucius Malfoy's face, but never this one. Something terrible had happened. I picked Bambino up off the floor and clutched him to my chest.

"Lucius, what's wrong?"

My voice trembled.

_Was it Mama? Papa? My sisters? _

"What's happened?"

He struggled to form words. For an eternity he couldn't speak. Then eventually he managed to whisper

"It's Blaise,"

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Blaise? Blaise could handle himself. Nothing bad could happen to my Blaise. Everything was fine. Then why did Lucius seem so...

Cold terror seeped back into my bones. Or did it ever really leave?

_Dio boia._

"Where is he?"

"They have him at St Mungos. Carolina, I'm so sor- Carolina!"

I barged past him roughly and screamed my destination to the fire. Bambino started to cry.

"It's fine Bambino, it's fine. Daddy is fine. I promise sweetheart. He's fine. We're fine."

We were fine. Nothing could have happened to my Blaise. My King.

And whatever _had _happened to him, we could get through it. He could get through it. It couldn't be that bad. I would nurse him back to health myself if I had to. And he would complain about having the worst Medi-Witch ever and I would snap that he was the worst patient in the world and he could just lie in bed all day with our Bambino on his chest and we'd be the perfect little family we'd always been and-

"I'm here to see Mr Pascal."

My voice was brittle and tense. The Welcomewitch stared at me dumbfounded as I shifted my Bambino to my hip.

"My husband please."

"Mrs Zabini... I can't-"

"_Where_ is my husband?" I screamed.

"The sixth floor."

At her whimper I ran for the stairs, ignoring the protests of people I shoved. From my hip Bambino was sniffling. Healers and visitors alike jumped out of our way. No one stopped us. I took the stairs two steps at a time, passing five identical floor guides on my journey.

Floor guides that only went up to the fifth floor.

What could possibly be on the sixth floor?

One possibility, beginning with an M, snaked its way into my mind, making me stumble in horror.

_But it couldn't be!_

I banished the thought from my mind and ran faster than before. Bambino's crying had become one continuous wail. I murmured hysterically to him in an attempt to calm him down.

"It's okay Bambino, it's okay. He'll be fine, I promise. I promise. He's not- _I promise_!"

A heavy wooden door reared in front of us. The only door on that story. A word had been etched into it. A word beginning with M.

Frantically I pulled at the handle.

_They've made a mistake. They've made a mistake. They've made a mistake! _

"Alohamora," I all but sobbed.

Another corridor. More doors. The one at the end had a light shining under it.

In that room I found a grave looking Healer. He started when he saw me.

"Mrs Zabini! You can't be here-!"

I ignored him and slowly walked to the bed in the middle of the room. There was my Blaise. Sleeping.

_Except it wasn't a bed. It was a table. _

He always looked so peaceful when he slept. There was even the faintest of smiles on his lips. His hand was clutched around his old watch.

The one his Father gave him.

The one that would one day be Bambino's.

"Mrs Zabini..." the Healer tried again faintly. But I was beyond hearing him.

_I love you my Blaise, you know that don't you?_

I stroked some hair off his forehead.

I needed him to open his eyes.

I needed him to sit up and smirk at me.

I needed him to call me Regina.

He didn't.

"...he lost so much blood... the muggle healers couldn't cope... there was nothing they could do..."

He lay there, still and silent as I pressed a final kiss to his lips.

"I love you my Blaise."

With that I allowed myself to look at the dark stain on the front of his robes.

My knees hit the ground with a dull thud.

Blaise was gone.

Our Bambino wailed in my ear. Wailed for the Daddy he didn't know was dead. I clutched the last living proof I had, that once upon a time Blaise Pascal had loved me.

My cries joined his.

They echoed through the Morgue.

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**Awk God love her!**


	14. The Stars and the Wind

**The Stars and the Wind**

Everything reminded her of him. Everything.

Objects. Places. People. Everything. They all said one thing to her – Blaise.

She wanted a Nothing. To be in a Nothing. Where there were no objects or people or places. Just Nothing. Empty. Like the wide empty sky.

The wide empty sky she could see above her as she lay on her rooftop.

But the wide empty sky was full of stars. Stars that sparkled like his eyes as he spun her around the dance floor. Even when she closed her eyes he was there.

She got up. Paced right to the very edge where the roof ended. The grass below, so far below, glowed silver in the moonlight. Silver like the dagger he had bought her.

The wind teased the tips of her hair, curling a strand on her forehead. Her ears could hear it. It seemed to speak. It had a voice that whispered.

_Blaise. _

How easy it would be. One tiny step and then...

_Blaise. _

She would feel his arms around her again.

But then another sound cut through the wind.

A cry.

A baby's cry.

Her baby's cry.

Blaise.

_Blaise. _

Blaise.

_Blaise. _

Blaise!

"Bambino!"

She rushed from the roof and flew down the many stairs separating her from her baby. Her Bambino. Her Little Blaise.

She held him in her arms and wept.

"It' okay Bambino! Mama's here! Mama will always be here!"

As much as she needed one Blaise, the other Blaise needed her more.

So she stayed. And though she would often go up to the roof and stare at the stars, she never again visited the ledge with the wind.


	15. The Funeral

**The Funeral**

**Narcissa Malfoy **

I needed anger for this to work. Just a little bit. Not too much, but enough.

I slammed the door open, hard enough for the handle to make a dent in the wall. The figure on the bed barely raised her head before she let it fall again. Her hand methodically stroked the dark hair of the baby on her chest. Carolina was the epitome of a broken woman. And that poor baby. Three months old and no father...

I couldn't let sympathy distract me.

With a violent slashing movement I opened the heavy curtains. Little Blaise whimpered at the sudden light, but was soon soothed by his mother's caressing hand. Carolina looked to me with dead eyes.

I glared back.

"Get up," I snapped sharply.

"Why?" her whisper struggled to reach me as I whipped round her room expelling dust from her trinkets, banishing clothes to her wash basket and floating empty glasses onto high shelves where little fingers couldn't reach them.

"You bloody well know why. For Merlin's sake, what have the house elves been doing for the last three days?"

"Why?"

She raised her head this time, but her question was no stronger than it had been the first time. I steeled myself again to glare.

"Because you have a funeral to go to."

She began to lower herself to the bed again. Angrily I snatched the child from her and cradled him in my arms.

That at least got her attention. Thank goodness. She snarled and reached for me with curled nails and fire in her eyes. She wouldn't hurt me, especially while I was carrying Blaise, but all the same, I took a step back. My voice came, cold and clear.

"I'm going to give him to a house elf, though Lord knows where they are given the state of your room, and they are going to dress him. And then I am going to come back and dress you and you are going to go out there and pay your final respects to the man who loved you and fathered your child."

She crumpled at my words. Her shoulder slumped and tears washed away the inferi state my best friend had drowned in for days. Without giving her any comfort, I strode from the room. She needed to come to terms with this on her own. I would be there for her as much as she needed but she had to do the hardest bit herself. She would either get through this or she would break. She could accept he was gone or...

Faces of the people I had lost swam momentarily before my eyes. Angrily I shook them away. There was no time for them. Carolina needed me.

By the time I returned she was sitting up. Wet tracks lined her cheeks, with strands of her hair sticking to them.

"Why are you making me do this Cissy?"

I nearly gave in. She looked so pathetic. How could I be sure she was up for this? Wouldn't it be better to let her stay here and sleep away her pain?

But she couldn't sleep forever. And the pain would be waiting, worse than ever, when she woke up. No matter how long she hid, Blaise would still be dead.

She didn't let me sleep. When Andro-

Again I cut off my own thoughts and dragged her towards the mirror. Facing her own reflection she tearfully asked me one more time.

"Why?"

I allowed a trickle of sympathy to escape the reservoir.

"You'll never forgive yourself if you don't make an effort to look good for him one last time."

Briefly I squeezed her shoulder and set to work.

Her hair was twirled in an elegant chignon, laced through with tiny lilies, no bigger than my thumb nail. Her perfume too was lily scented. And a lily broach was pinned to her robes. It shone against the rich black material.

She stared at herself in the glass.

She looked at her beautiful face. Her beautiful hair. Her beautiful self and whispered words I was sure Blaise had whispered to her.

"Beauty is what you're famous for, Regina. Let them see how beautiful you really are."

For the first time in days she stood up straight. She squared her shoulders and the determined glint that always resided in her eyes returned. Carolina was back.

She gave her hair a few tweaks and her make up a few smudges. Just to show she could. To prove to me she could better the work I had done on her. To remove herself from my debt.

"Where is my Bambino?"

A house elf was called. Little Blaise was carried in, dressed in black robes no child that age had any right to be wearing. He stared at his Mama with wide chocolate eyes that mirrored her own. He didn't understand. He didn't know where his Daddy had gone. He didn't know why his Mama had been less than a shadow of her former self. He didn't know anything of thieves or muggles or death. He just reached for his Mama, a silent plea to be lifted and cared for. And he stared. Would Draco stare at me like that, if Lucius...

Yet another thought to be banished.

I couldn't falter yet. I still had to be strong. Carolina was no longer a zombie but I was certain she still needed me.

I was right.

At the funeral she threw herself to her knees in front of his grave, screaming. All the sorrows of the world were heard in her wails as she sobbed for the man she loved and clutched his son to her breast. Only one onlooker made a move to stop her. I grabbed Cossette's arm as she tried.

"Let go of me! She's shaming my brother."

She could barely choke out the hissed words behind her own sobs. They caught in her throat. Because once again Cossette was jealous. She wanted to collapse on the ground. She wanted to scream and wail. She wanted the world to know how she missed Blaise just as much as Carolina. But she wasn't as brave as Carolina. She couldn't let herself act so. Not in front of all these people. So she was jealous. Jealous of Carolina's ability to ignore the crowd and give voice to the pain within.

"Leave her," my voice was gentle, but out of sight my hand curled around my wand. "Let her be with her husband one last time.

Cossette gave a near silent sob and I pulled her into an embrace. She had just lost her only brother and needed my comfort. Which I gave.

As the funeral party drifted back to the Zabini Manor, I let a crying Cossette wet my shoulder with her tears as a prostrated Carolina wet the fresh soil with hers.

Eventually they managed to stop their tears. Both at the same time. Carolina rose, with an unearthly grace, Little Blaise still possessively held against her and approached us.

Her eyes bore a hole into Cossette's.

"You were a good sister to him."

Without another word she, disapparated.

"You were a good wife."

Cossette's words were heard by no one but the wind and myself. I doubt if even she heard them. But I did. Just before she followed Carolina to the wake. She said them.

And that night I wondered if I was a good wife. Or a good sister. I thought of all the people I had lost, the people I allowed myself to name just this once. Daddy. Rosaline. Regulus.

Andromeda.

Lucius held me while I cried and I added one more name to the list.

Blaise.


	16. Viva La Regina

**I am abysmally sorry for leaving it so long. I hope you can forgive me! Real life just seems to be battering my plot bunny round the head with a heavy shovel at the minute. But now I'm on Study Leave so instead of revising I'm writing. Yup, I'm gonna pass my A levels!**

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**Viva La Regina **

The King is dead; long live the Queen.

The old mantra rang in her head.

Her King was dead. So what was she to do?

Live, of course.

But living was so hard without him. At the end of the day she crept into a lonely bed, so huge without him. She nuzzled into his side of the bed, clutching at his pillow in her dreams, hoping against hope to feel a warm hard shoulder beneath her head.

But there was only a pillow.

Cloth and feathers.

Not Blaise.

Little Blaise had been moved back into his Moses basket and slept at the foot of her bed. A few doors down, the twirling mobile smiled down on an empty cot as Carolina, night after night, dragged herself from sleep to quiet his cries within her own room.

"Hush now, Bambino. Mama's here."

He cried less now. Sometimes he would get that wild look again, and his little head would swivel left and right, searching for someone he didn't remember. His eyes would grow wide in panic and confusion as his little brain tried to recall who he was looking for. And then he would find Carolina and silently beseech her to tell him what it was he needed. And she would lift him up and sway around the room, murmuring nonsense to soothe him.

But even that was rare.

When you want something specific, but don't know what it is, eventually you stop wanting it so much. Who could expect an infant to remember his dead Father?

Yet still Carolina swayed and murmured and pointed to the picture over the mantelpiece.

"That's your Daddy, Bambino. That's your Daddy. He loved us very much. You won't forget him will you, bello mia?"

Little Blaise's sleepy eyes would blink at her one more time before he sank into the colourful world of baby dreams.

"Of course you'll forget him." Carolina would close her own eyes, dry despite the pain that seeped through her with the realisation. "Of course you will."

And her eyes remained dry.

Blaise hated to see her unhappy, hated to see her cry. So she didn't cry.

She lived.

She worked.

She mothered.

And, when the time was right,

She remarried.

The King is dead; viva la Regina.

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**Review? Please.**


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